


This Force both Foul and Fair

by Ohtd_luv4ever



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Bilbo, BAMF Nori, Battle of Five Armies, BoFA, Character Death, Elemental - Freeform, F/M, Love, M/M, Potential only temporary character death, Sadness, so many feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohtd_luv4ever/pseuds/Ohtd_luv4ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than a few individuals remembered the sight of their guardians from the battle. Ice and smoke swirling around their forms, the blue tint and red glowing cracks that adorned skin. It had looked painful, hobbits not made to endure such hardships and dwarves knew well the bite of a forges flame. Very few could understand the agony and sacrifice the duo made as they fought, but many knew the drive to protect what they cherished, related to that consuming fury when danger threatened what they hold dear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Force both Foul and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is to be a group of loosely or closely related one shots for my Elemental Au. Some will be from the past some the 'present' and some years later. I cannot promise consistent updates unless I get comment encouragement.  
> I hope you guys enjoy this!

The battle raged around the cliffs of Erebor, a seething roiling mass of blood and screams and dying friend and foe alike. The five armies surged around each other in waves, pushing each forward and then back in a desperate attempt on both sides to take any inch of ground that they could; striving for victory. It was into this sea of death and destruction that two small forms appeared out of a hidden door on the side of the mountain, each covered in dust and cobwebs and clutching weapons tightly in nerveless hands. 

The blue glow of the elvish blade highlighted the pale face of the wielder and his companion, their haggard countenances looking down at the battle with resignation and fear. The smaller of the two figures turned to his friend, a sad and hesitant smile pulling at his face as he took in the features of the one person that had accompanied him this whole long way. Though the years had not been kind and strife had followed them neither had ever left the other. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, cool fog escaped his lungs from the action and was observed in almost a detached way. Bilbo Baggins placed his chilled hand on his dwarf brother’s shoulder and held tight. 

“One final time then. This was ever how it was to turn out anyway; we both knew it at some level at the start of this whole thing. Shall we go and dance together brother.” 

Smiling a shark’s smile that had got him into more trouble over the years than he could count, Nori placed his over warm glowing hand over the hobbits though it burned them both and laughed through the pain. Looking out to the battle raging just meters below them, he flipped a curved knife into his free hand and grinned. 

“Aye, let’s give them a show brother. Together.”

Pulling their hands back to their own space, the dwarf and hobbit took deep breaths and allowed the ice and fire to spill through their veins. Heat and blazing cold alike surged up around them in a deadly dance, the shimmering blues and flickering reds of their power washing over the surrounding landscape and changing it drastically. Shooting spikes of growing ice erupted from the ground around the hobbit, each one a menacing glitter of frozen water. At the same time beasts made of fire leapt from the air around Nori, their claws pouring smoke where they touched the ground. The pair turned to the battle, where those closest to them had stopped to stare in awe and fear. 

“Here we go.” 

Moving in unison, fire and ice leapt from their perch, weapons blazing and elements following in their wake. Panicked cries from orc, dwarf, elf and human alike drove them to move faster, the black forms of the spawn of Mordor and their war beasts rising up in their path as they moved. A brave warrior charged them, the snapping jaws of his canine steed dripping the blood of some allied soldier. The motion was abruptly halted as spikes of ice speared the warg through, the agonized screeching’s of the creature cutting off as a long curved knife sliced through the jugular and flames encased its struggling rider in blazing heat. 

It was a dance of sorts as they moved; each enemy that came within their reach left behind bleeding out on spikes of ice or turned to ash by the ravenous flames that swirled around their bodies. Through the fear and the rush of fighting, neither of the two fighters noticed the changes that were slowly taking over their bodies. Blue color crept up the hobbits fingers and down the tips of his ears, the cracking of skin and grey ash that floated away from the dwarf as he fought hardly mattered at a time like this. What mattered was the burn of fire and the chill of ice, of watching their enemy fall behind them as they moved in search of 12 dwarves and a wizard. No goblin blade could reach them nor warg get close enough to use their teeth, arrows stopped in the air encased in ice or burned away before they reached their targets. 

The long knives glowed red hot and burned even as they cut, the screams of the inflicted silenced quickly by blue and white tendrils that frosted over the bodies as they moved on to the next patch of battle ground. A single cry of pain stopped the flame encased dwarf in his tracks however, his blood spattered face going white as he turned to the sound. Watching in horror as a huge goblin raised its gore slicked blade over a small knit clad warrior who lay defenseless on the ground, time seemed to slow for a moment.

A scream of pure rage ripped its way out of his throat at the sight, and lurching forward with his beasts of flame at his sides, Nori flung one of his knives; watching with satisfaction as the blade sunk hilt deep into the goblins skull, black blood oozing slowly from the wound as the creature slumped to the ground lifeless. Before another could take the fallen goblins place, Nori had set himself before the downed dwarf, his teeth bared in a fierce challenge to any who dared to face him. 

Laughing as no warrior stepped forward to engage him in battle, his flames flaring bright around his body, Nori nodded to Bilbo who had followed him to protect his kin, a shocked Dori looking at his brother with awe in his eyes even as he stood surrounded by a swirling shield of snow. A beast of flame settled next to Ori with fangs bared, heedless of the nearly searing waves of heat it gave off. Turning to Bilbo, Nori wrenched his blade from the goblins head, the metal immediately glowing red as it touched his palm. 

Neither noticed the concerned looks that their kin gave them. Ori’s eyes filled with tears at the sight of his brothers burning, charring skin and the blue ice creeping over Bilbo’s face. Even as the pair leapt away into the fight once again, seeking out their company in the midst of the battle Ori called after them, but his cry went unheeded. 

Bofur and Bombur were discovered defending a wounded Bifur, the enemy around them swiftly fleeing or dying to the attack of flame and ice and blade as the hobbit and dwarf came to the defense of their friends. Gloin, Oin and Balin had grouped together with a contingent of iron hill dwarves, and the arrival of Bilbo and Nori sent the mass of orc and goblin fleeing before them with cries of despair as they were cut down and turned to ash as they fled. The three dwarves watched in fear and awe as their friends stood before them, the roiling elements at their command surging up and striking down any foe that came near enough without a single command from the wielders. Turning to their companions, Bilbo stumbled forward, ice and snow swirling around him and freezing the ground on which he stepped. The iron hill dwarves recoiled in fear, but Balin knew Bilbo Baggins and trusted him enough to step forward to meet the hobbit. 

“Thorin, Fili….Kili…Dwalin...”

An odd rasp had entered Bilbo’s voice, desperation in the hobbits eyes showing clearly to the aging dwarf. Noting that none of the others were asked after Balin assumed that the rest of their company had been located. Shaking his head, Balin hesitated before reaching out a gauntlet covered hand to try and touch the hobbit, but when the small shireling recoiled he desisted. Bilbo franticly shook his head and moved out of reach when his friend tried to touch him, knowing the power of his ice and his own fate even as he saw the realization in the old dwarves face.

A keening cry of pain from Nori drew Bilbo’s attention. Turning, he watched his friend begin to crumple to the blood soaked earth, a burst of ash floating away from his form. It sent the hobbit rushing to the other, grabbing his arms to hold him up even as the heat burned him. Looking to the warriors they had rescued, Bilbo sent a rush of snow and ice to encircle the group even as his hands began to turn clear from the force of his powers, and pulling at Nori the hobbit stumbled away into the rush of still fighting bodies to find the last 4 dwarves. 

It seemed ages later, filled with dying foe and the frightened cries of their allies that it would never end. Burning skin and freezing flesh, movement and death were all that the hobbit and dwarf knew anymore. Suddenly Nori spotted the thickest of the fighting, where Thranduil, Bard and Dain could be seen struggling to reach the center of the mass. The reason for the urgency became apparent even as the bellow of a well-known and feared orc rose above the noise of the battle, the cry of victory sending a chill beyond the ice around them through the two elementals. Using his ice to create a pillar, Bilbo hauled himself and Nori above the fighting to see into the ring of orc and goblins. A sob of despair wrenched its way out his throat at what he saw. 

Fili and Kili stood before the pale orc and his son Bolg, Dwalin barely on his knees in front of a fallen Thorin, all 4 warriors bleeding heavily from their wounds. Azog had his mace raised high over the Durin brothers, a look of sick glee on his scarred face as he prepared to finish his extermination of the Durin line. A scream, high pitched and filled with anguish ripped through the air, stopping most of the fighting in its tracks at the tortured sound. Looking up, Azog stared in shock at the sight that his eyes filled with; for a small hobbit with a glowing sword and a dwarf, both surrounded by ice and flame were launching themselves through the air directly at the spawn of Gungabad, weapons outstretched and elements writhing around them in their fury. 

Hitting the ground in front of Fili and Kili, their legs barely able to move, Bilbo struck out with Sting and ice, driving Azog back even as a monstrous dragon made of roiling flame engulfed Bolg in its grip and turned the orc to ash. 

“You!” 

Charging forward, Nori and Bilbo converged on Azog, tears in their eyes and screams in their throats as they made their stand against the foe. Behind them a swirling mass of ice surrounded the 4 dwarves and crafted a spherical dome around the wounded royalty, the barrier encasing them in its protective shell. 

“Will NOT!” 

Reaching out with his knives, Nori slashed one of Azog’s legs, cutting deep and causing the orc to stumble, giving Bilbo’s ice and his little glowing blade the time to sink into the orc’s chest even as his flames devoured the other limbs and the mace, melting them down to nothing. 

“Touch them!”

Bilbo looked at Azog as his life disappeared from his cruel eyes, the shock stamped on his face at his demise lighting a fierce satisfaction in the little hobbit. Wrenching his blade free and slicing through Azog’s neck with one vicious swing, Bilbo stumbled back, panting heavily even as he slumped down, his strength failing rapidly as his legs turned to ice in his armor and his hands closed around the hilt of his little sword to never open again. Fighting back tears as he felt the burning heat of Nori’s hand on his back, Bilbo turned his nearly clear ice tinted face up to his friend. Taking in the stone and ash color of the dwarfs own face and the red hot cracks in his skin, he let a watery chuckle loose. Nori could not kneel, his legs being burning stone, but he stayed close to Bilbo’s back as he felt his power consume more of his body. 

“I…It hurts Nori…” 

Laughing bitterly, the dwarf turned his gaze out to the rest of the battle, to where the dark forms of the orc and goblin and warg were staring in fear and the elf, human and dwarven warriors looked on in awe at the sphere of ice and the dragon of flame that dominated the battleground in defense of the royal dwarves. The rest of the foe was still out there, killing their allies and both the hobbit and dwarf knew what they had to do, though it would finally be the end of them. 

“Let us finish this brother. Let us show them our force, our power that they find so foul!” 

Bilbo swallowed his tears and nodded stiffly, turning his face to the enemy and gathered the wells of his ice hidden deep in his soul, focusing only on the dark presence of each orc, goblin and warg he drew forth the storm that would rid the battle field of their evil. Nori was drawing up his own flames, the dragon overhead glowing brighter even as a flurry of ice and snow erupted from the hobbit that he had claimed as kin, the colliding elements merging into one massive force that descended on the enemy, swirling around the elves humans and dwarves like the breaking of the tide against a rock. 

Each enemy was cut down, incinerated or impaled and frozen no matter how far they tried to flee. The rushing sound of flame and ice was deafening in its passing and though a few singed hairs and frosted weapons were affected as the storm passed, no ally was hurt as the foe was destroyed. Through it all the hobbit and dwarf were silent, steam and smoke roiling off their forms shrouded the pair from sight a few moments into the final attack. When the glow of Sting finally faded, the elements withdrew, the fire drake fizzling into nothing and all but the ice sphere dispersing like it had never been. The sun broke through from behind the clouds and shone down on two statues made of glass that stood guard in front of a dome of melting ice. 

The blades and other metals were the only thing that did not shine clear, still in their original forms despite the extreme conditions they were forced into. Those with extraordinary powers had to have enduring weapons if they were to serve their purpose. Each and every detail on the statues was perfect, individual hairs, freckles on the ‘skin’ and wrinkles in cloth. Slowly, carefully, wounded soldiers and dear friends approached the place, heat cracked earth and chill air surrounding the allies as they gazed at the price for their victory. From inside the icy sphere a tapping resounded, the melting layers beginning to give up their circle of protection slowly. Several of Thorin’s company lurched forward to help chip away at the ice, a large hole being carved into the structure so that those trapped inside could be removed. 

Tauriel clung to Kili when he limped from the shelter, murmuring to him in Sindarin as she beheld his wounds. Ori likewise flung himself at Fili, sobbing into the blonds torn shoulder armor at the sight of his intended alive and well. Oin was frantically trying to catalog as many wounds as possible that decorated the beaten down form of his king, muttering curses under his breath as he attempted to determine how quickly he would have to move to save the royal’s life. Dwalin leaned against the melting ice, a stunned expression on his face as he stared at the decimated battlefield. The sun was glinting off a shiny clear structure not 10 yards away, the familiar shape of hair pulled into a close braid for battle sending shocks of disbelieving pain into his heart. 

He had known faintly that the dwarf had powers he should not have, but the scope of them had never been known. Trembling, the guard tried to go and get a better look, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his chest. Looking down into the concerned eyes of his brother, Dwalin attempted to move again, protests at being kept away growing in his chest. Gloin joined the white haired warrior and escorted the shell shocked dwarf away from the sight of his love turned to glass, everyone being removed from the immediate area to healing tents. 

While the wounded were tended and the dead buried, a select few returned to the place at the foot of the mountain where the statues stood. Thranduil, Bard, Gandalf, Dain and Balin, who had all escaped the battle relatively unscathed, beheld the forms of Bilbo and Nori with varying degrees of respect and sadness in their eyes. It was Bard who spoke first, his grim countenance a reflection of everyone’s mood even in the wake of their victory. 

“It was not as high a cost as it could have been, and yet it was greater than it should have ever had to be. “ 

Gandalf was leaning on his staff, looking far older than he ever had before. Shaking his head, the wizard reached down and placed a knurled hand on the top of cool glass curls. The power and magic that ran through the structure was great, the spell such that not even Saruman the white would have been able to undo it. It was truly a tragedy, and one that the grey wizard would have liked to avoid. 

“Never has a truer phrase been uttered Bard, King of Dale. I fear if not for these two the outcome of that battle would have been very different indeed.”

Turning to the stoic face of the elf king, Gandalf fixed him with a stern look, ignoring the spluttering’s of the human who had his leadership thrust upon him. 

“Thorin Oakenshield has come unto his crown. Actions for better or worse during his sickness cannot be undone, nor can years of past misdoings on either side of your petty feud. Give the dwarf his time to grieve Thranduil, as you were given time and you will find your treasures returned to you. It seems the curse upon the line of Durin was broken at last, after its long and terrible rein.” 

The elf king looked as though he had swallowed something particularly sour and foul, but nodded his acceptance anyway. He had a debt to fill to the Halfling, and he would not dishonor himself by moving against those the small being had fought so hard to save. Ever so carefully, Gandalf worked with a few of the dwarves to move the statue from the battle field, away from any accidents that could smash the structure. Those who saw the glass forms bowed in awe and respect, recognizing their saviors from the songs and word of mouth that had sprung up in the days following the battle. 

The song was sung at the revealing of the monument, several months later. The main halls were well on their way to being fixed up, damage wrought by the dragon slowly disappearing. Claw marks were filled in with gems or metals, new pillars put into place. Once there was enough of an appropriate area, the dwarves made a simply decorated space to place the statue. Behind the glass was a wall etched with the names of those who had fallen. When the cloth protecting the statues fell, there was a hushed silence. Then somewhere at the back of the group, a low singing started up. Soon the whole hall was reverberating with the tribute, eyes of all the races growing misty as they sung. 

Fire burn and Water freeze  
Send death among the foe.  
Swirling ice and cracking heat  
Strike terror deep while war drums beat.

The company of Thorin Oakenshield stood nearest the statues, their king standing unsupported alongside his guard. Both were silent, the quiet weeping of his company underscoring the haunting melody as it swirled into the reaches of the high cavern. 

No one escapes the consuming wrath  
When heat and cold personified take to the path.  
Throw down the spawn of Mordor and Gungabad  
Rally to the king.

Dwalin’s face was a mask, no emotion showing as he stared at his lover, his intended, his once to be husband. The courting braids and his bead were stark in the colorless glass that made up Nori’ hair. He had loved to run his big, rough hands through the silken softness, barely able to do an appropriate braid, but he had tried anyway. Nori had worn it proudly.

Beast of flame and Spikes of ice  
Blue shining sword and glowing red blade.  
Screaming pain and rage and woe  
No son of orc will escape the guardians reach.

The shine of mithril could be seen peeking from the hobbits clothing if you look hard enough. The king had given it to his little love to ensure his protection against blade or arrow, but it had done little against the freezing that had stolen the shirelings life from him. Thorin held a small acorn strung on a chain tightly in his palm, it too was encased by a protective layer of glass, made by Gandalf for the king when he had found the dwarf clutching at the token like it was the last hope in the world. 

Loyal love’s of king and kin  
will Ever watch the mountains halls.  
Child of Yvanna the bright and fair  
Of Mahal our father the smith

Dori and Ori were near inconsolable, seeing their brothers entombed so, they had heard of their fate’s from the rest of the company after the dust had settled. Never did they think that they would lose their kin in such a manner, and they could hardly tell if having the monument would help or simply worsen their suffering. 

So great their anguish so bright the flame  
How cold the storm that brewed.  
A final surge giving their all  
To ensure no more loss was construed.

Sting was digging into the ground as if to keep the hobbit from falling to the earth. In one of the hobbits pockets sparkled a golden ring, no one but Gandalf had paid it much mind, after all the swords hadn’t turned to glass so it wasn’t that odd that the little circle of metal hadn’t either. 

A circling sphere of ice and snow, a dragons wrath in fire  
Expelling their last and the storm finally passed  
Gleaming glass entombing our saviors.

Nori had a hand placed on Bilbo’s shoulder to support himself and bring comfort, both figures with faces turned to look at each other in their final moments. The point of contact was a more murky, almost opaque glass than the rest, the two dueling elements mixing there to form the different shade. 

Long will the mountain sing in gladness  
For her kings return  
Longer still will it utter its praises  
To those warriors who froze and burned.

More than a few individuals remembered the sight of their guardians from the battle. Ice and smoke swirling around their forms, the blue tint and red glowing cracks that adorned skin. It had looked painful, hobbits not made to endure such hardships and dwarves knew well the bite of a forges flame. Very few could understand the agony and sacrifice the duo made as they fought, but many knew the drive to protect what they cherished, related to that consuming fury when danger threatened what they hold dear. 

This last goodbye we utter  
Exclamations of joy and gratitude  
To those who returned the mountain  
And in so doing paid the price of their lives. 

The last stanza’s swelled in the mountain, sung by hundreds of throats. The fresh memories of the battle gleaming in every eye. Thoughts of other fallen comrades who had been brought low. The losses were great, but the prize even greater. Soon families would be returning to the mountain, the great evil that had plagued more than one land had been driven back, and now a time of peace could occur. 

Hail to names Baggins and Ri  
Long may you watch over our hall’s  
Never let us forget the sacrifice  
That bought safety and freedom for all.

As the last notes faded into the stone around them, the dwarves gave a great bow all as one, the king and his company included. Once the crowning ceremony and speeches concluded, everyone trailed out to enter the feast and celebration, leaving the glass statues gleaming under torch light in the great cavern. 

Faint sounds of merriment filtered through the stone, a sense of peace and content permeating the air. The Battle of Five Armies was over, Smaug dead, the Necromancer banished with Sauron back to whence he came for the time being. The world would spin on. If a few hearts were heavier and two places of honor sat unfilled at the feast table of the king, it was the price for the coming prosperity and ease. 

From within its glass confinement, where it hung on a mithril chain about a king’s neck, the little acorn sat docile and seemingly lifeless. Only if you looked ever so closely, would the smallest hint of green be seen poking through its shell, watered by a dwarf king’s tears and protected by wizard magic. Back in the main hall, flickering torchlight illuminated the glass statues, the smallest hint of color in the eyes of the two individuals remaining though the rest of their bodies were colorless. Just the smallest of hopes if one would but see it. The halls of Erebor was retaken; the reign of Thorin Oakenshield would now begin.

**Author's Note:**

> Well there we go. Comment? Thought, suggestions, let me know if you guys want more of this. Thank you.


End file.
